[Authoress' Note: I wrote this poem on the 30th of August in 2001, a little over a week before September 11th, on the back of a homework assignment in second period Geography. I remember having the sudden rush within me that my life was more than school and tedium, that something was waiting for me, coming, soon. Lucita, my old mentor, called me a prophet and cursed me. I'm no prophet; that is not my gift or curse. Still, I think she had the wrong of it; this poem was not the prophecy of disaster, but the knowledge of a destiny that awaited me a little over a year hence.]

Standing all alone

On a windswept field

Losing all emotion

Never knowing what is real

Longing for a difference

Something new to come

Of anger, fear, or happiness

To make my heart run

The wanting and the praying

The wishing and the need

The desire and the thirsting

The passion and the greed

Hungering for an epiphany

Demanding a change

Something eerie, frightening

Something dark and strange

The sky is blue a present

Not exciting gray

A cloudless sky above

A boring, pretty day

No storms on the horizon

No exotic fun

No bright light flashing

No thunder like a drum

No such danger now

Only subtle peace

But I sense a brewing storm

Waiting for release

[There it is, weak and pathetically clichéd, but still, I need to upload something or this account wouldn't be very useful. ~KnoD]